


The Kids Are Alright

by madhattedsoup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, extreme perspective switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madhattedsoup/pseuds/madhattedsoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sam had shut the gates of Hell?  What if Dean could come to terms with his brother's sacrifice?  What if Gadreel had never met Metatron?  What if Cas could finally find a home?</p><p>Takes place after 8.23.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spiralling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean doesn't know how to watch his brother die, Sam works toward peace with his fate, and Cas wakes up in the middle of a forest near Buffalo, NY. Chaos ensues.
> 
> Apology: This chapter revolves a lot around episode 9.01 and therefore has occasional quoting from canon. Oops. (Although I did change a few words here and there)

"Where to, pal?"

"I'm....I...."

"Well? Come on, I got deadlines."

"Kansas. As close as you can get me to Kansas."

* * *

Beep. Beep. Beeeeep. Beep.Beep.Beep. Beeeep. Beep. Beep.

The sound drilled its way into Dean's ear, a horrible song unable to find its rhythm. It smothered his thoughts, pulsed in his temples.

"Mr. Townshend?" 

Dean slowly met the doctor's eyes, tired and expectant, and he knew instantly that it was more bad news.

"Your brother has shown no sign of improvement," the man said carefully. He glanced at his chart. "As of now, we don't expect to see a change in his condition, but...only time will tell."

Dean nodded numbly, his eyes drifting back toward the hospital bed where Sam's dying body lay. 

_How the hell did I get here?_

* * *

_"When you die, and your soul comes to heaven: Find me. Tell me your story."_

Metatron betrayed him. Betrayed them all. Naomi had been right all along, and Cas....Cas had played right into his hands. The angels were falling, all of them, and Cas could hear their screams, could nearly feel their pain. Then there was only silence.

Silence and pain.

Cas stared down at himself, his own blood coating one sleeve of his trenchcoat.

This wasn't like the time his powers had been cut off. This was different, things hurt, things bled. And it wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried.

_A human life._

"Kansas? Well, I can take you 's far as Columbus."

"Thank you." Castiel met the trucker's gaze with a nod. "I appreciate it."

The trucker, an older man with a thin face, shook his head and pulled the semi back onto the highway. He wore a thin gold cross around his neck, and adorning his body were a ragged company t-shirt and a baseball cap that had likely seen a lifetime of sweat and memories. "Sure," he responded, his tenor voice a bit rough and crackly. "I used t'do some hitchhiking myself. Back in the seventies. Golden years, 'fyou ask me. What was yer name again?"

Cas blinked. He didn't know what to say. He swallowed, trying to ease his painfully dry throat. "Um...I'm...C-Clarence."

He wasn't sure what prompted him to use the nickname; it sounded so human. Perhaps he would keep it.

"Clarence? I thought yer I.D. said Tom or somethin'," the man replied with a chuckle. It sounded like someone choking on sand. Cas rubbed his stiff neck, wishing he hadn't shown the man the fake I.D. card Dean had given him some time ago.

"Yes. My name is Clarence," Cas lied. "My I.D. goes by my first name, but Clarence is my...middle name. I...I like it better," he managed to say. He licked his lips and swallowed again, hoping for any amount of saliva to ease the ache in his mouth. 

"Clarence it is," mused the old man. "Well, I'm Jeff. Nice to meet ya."

Cas nodded in response and turned his gaze out the window.

"So, what's in Kansas, Clarence? Home?"

"I...I'm not sure," Cas replied honestly.

"Well, it's gotta be better than Buffalo, huh?" That gurgling laugh again. 

Cas cleared his sore throat. "I hope so."

Jeff ceased pressing Cas for responses after that, and switched on the radio to a very rambunctious country station. He sang along. Cas pulled one foot up onto his seat, rested his chin on his knee, and watched the scenery float past.

* * *

_"You finish this trial, you're dead Sam."_

_"...So?"_

Dean shivered as he passed the threshold into the small hospital chapel. The air hummed with the bated breaths of loved ones, praying their pains away to an empty Heaven. His feet pulled him along until they reached an empty pew, and before he could convince himself to turn back around he found himself bowing his head against his hands.

"Cas, you there?...Listen...Naomi was...right. Sammy's hurt...he's ah...he's hurt pretty bad. And uh..." Dean's fists clenched against the pew, screwing his eyes shut as tightly as he could. Why was he praying for Cas - to save Sam? But he was beyond repair. Dean just couldn't get rid of that tiny, persistent _maybe_ pressing into his chest. He swallowed.

"Hell is locked up, Cas. And Sam's... Look, I know you think that I'm pissed at you, okay, but I don't care that the angels fell. So whatever you did, or didn't, do, it doesnt' matter. Okay, we'll work it out. Please, man, we need you here. I need--" Dean choked. Swallowed. Lifted his eyes to scan the room. 

He wasn't there.

"Screw it. Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester. And I need your help."

* * *

"I consider it to be quite the honor to be collecting the likes of Sam Winchester."

Death was there. Sam was sitting next to Death himself. Itself?

"So...this is it, then," Sam murmured, staring down at his hands. "I'm dead."

"Very nearly so," Death replied, reclining slightly in the tall-backed chair inside a cozy cabin that Sam swore looked familiar but couldn't quite seem to place. "Your physical body hangs by a very thin thread."

"And...and there's no waking up from this?" Sam asked, unable to help himself. There were still so many things he wanted to say to Dean, to reassure him. To make him promise not to resurrect him.

Death regarded him thoughtfully. "No," he replied. "It does not do any good to dwell on what could be done, or said."

"I'm that transparent, huh?" Sam asked, smiling feebly. He knew what he'd been doing in the church when he cured Crowley and completed the Trials. He knew he would end up here, mere steps away from Death's door. Now that he was here, though...

He was ready to die. In theory. 

He just needed Dean to let go.

"I try so hard not to pass judgement in times like this, not my bag you see, but you..." Death nearly smiled. "Well played my boy."

Sam's gaze clouded with tears. How long, how hard, had he worked to hear someone validate him? How much had he hated himself, degraded himself? And to hear, from _Death_ of all beings, that he was an honor to collect, that his time had been positive, purposeful? Perhaps he had truly redeemed himself, after all.

"Will I...will I go to Heaven?"

Death closed his eyes, steepled his fingers. "I believe that was written into the contract, Sam. _And so God has commanded it._ " 

Heaven. He would be in Heaven. Jess, Bobby, Dad, Mom...they were all waiting for him.

* * *

Cas parted with the trucker at a gas station in Columbus, Ohio. He'd only had ten dollars inside the wallet, Jimmy's money once upon a time; Jeff had refused it and handed him a twenty instead. "Get some lunch," he told him, before shutting the cab and moving on.

"I don't need to....eat...." Cas mumbled to the remaining dust trail, realizing halfway through the statement that it was entirely untrue now. He looked down at the money. It wasn't much, he knew that. His stomach now ached just as much as his dry throat.

He spent five dollars on a sandwich at the gas station and eagerly swallowed it down, following it up with three cups of free water. Then he exchanged two dollars for quarters and made his way outside.

He needed to call Dean.

* * *

The parking garage was fairly empty as Dean strode across it toward the impala. He needed to get out of the white hallways and cold machinery, needed to breathe a little bit. For a brief instant he wondered how Kevin was doing, stuck at the bunker with a freshly-human Crowley in the dungeon. But he couldn't spare much more thought for them; his plate was full. He had to trust that everything was fine.

 _Cas...please, man...please come..._ Dean bit his fist and made to open the driver's door.

Suddenly he found himself yanked away from the car; a cool blade pressed up against his throat. An angel blade.

"You prayed?" the assailant -- an angel, apparently -- hissed into his ear. Dean scowled.

"Yeah, for help," he snarled in irritation. Damn angels, man.

"Yes," replied the angel in a low voice. "You'll be helping me." He pulled the blade away and slammed Dean backward against the trunk of the impala. "If you lie to me, Dean Winchester, I will rip your throat out. Where is Castiel?"

 _Fuck. So that's what this is about._ "Who's asking?"

The man scoffed at him. "Try every angel who was ejected from their home."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh. Well, in that case, I have no clue." He was slammed again, then again. The angel raised the angel blade, and he flinched.

No blow came.

"Easy, there, brother," came a gentle voice from behind the angel. 

Dean let out a quiet sigh of relief. It looked like he would be getting the help he'd prayed for after all.

* * *

"When do I have to leave?"

"When you're ready."

"Can I just wait...just...a little bit longer?"

"As you wish, Sam."

* * *

_One...Two..._ The rings were long and slow; what if Dean didn't answer? Cas would eventually run out of quarters. Would he continue to Lebanon? What if Dean and Sam didn't want him there? Where would he go then? _Four...Five..._

"Who is this?"

"Dean," Cas stated, relief and worry flooding his tone. He heard a breath on the other line.

"Cas, where the hell are you?"

"Dean, Metatron tricked me." The words flew out of his mouth too rapidly. "It wasn't angel trials. It was a spell. I wanted you to know that."

There was a pause. "Okay, Cas, I understand, but we've got a problem. Sammy finished the trials. He's dying, Cas. He--have you heard my prayers? I've been praying to you all night."

A wave of guilt washed over Cas. His throat was suddenly dry again. "Dean....Metatron, he....he took my grace."

"What?!"

"Don't worry about me. What's going on with Sam?"

"There's another angel with me right now. But he...he's saying there's nothing he can.... Cas..." 

Cas shut his eyes against the raw emotion in his friend's voice.

"...Is he right?"

"...I'm not sure. Dean, who is the other angel?"

"Uh, I think he said his name is, Gadreel?"

"Gadreel?" Cas felt a strange heat pool in his chest. Gadreel had been locked away in the deepest dungeon of Heaven for as long as there had been humans on the earth. He had been named responsible for the Fall at the Garden of Eden...the forbidden fruit. Lucifer...

"...Does he check out? Cas?" 

Cas sighed silently. Gadreel, at least, still had his grace. If Sam truly was beyond help, perhaps the other angel might ease his passing. "He's...yes. Let him stay with Sam until I can get there--"

"Wait, no, no, no. No, hey, that's not an option."

He frowned at the wall of the phone booth, calculating. "It will take me a few days to get there, but --"

"Hey, Cas, listen to me. There are angels out there, okay? And they -- they're looking for you, and they're pissed."

Cas's eyes widened. Angels were out looking for him? To what end, revenge? Answers? Guidance, maybe?

Cas shook his head uselessly. "That doesn't matter. I'll leave immediately--"

"No, Cas, I know you want to help, okay? But I'm begging you - for once, look out for yourself. Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody."

Cas frowned. "And just abandon you and Sam?"

"Dammit, Cas. You hearing yourself? There's a war on, and it's on you. There's thousands of them out there--. You said you lost your grace, right? That means you're human. That means that you bleed and you eat and you sleep and all the things you never had to worry about before." 

Cas's stomach twisted. He didn't want to admit that Dean was right. And his friend had enough to worry about. "I'm fine, Dean," he grumbled out.

There was a pause, a strange crackle, and Dean's voice issuing a startled, "Whoa."

"What's going on?" 

"I think we got some, uh, angelic company. Look, get yourself to the bunker as soon as you can. Stay safe. You hear me?"

"Dean," Cas started again, ready to argue.

"Go, Cas, dammit!" The line clicked off. 

"Dean..." he said weakly. How could he go to the bunker when it was his fault that Dean was in danger in the first place? 

He slammed the phone onto the receiver, heart pounding. What was the right choice? It was entirely possible that showing up to the hospital would only put Dean at more risk. 

But he shouldn't have to deal with Cas's mess.

Either way, he resolved, it would be a few more days of hitchhiking his way to Lebanon.

* * *

"These sigils should hold them off," Dean stated hurriedly, capping the marker and turning away from his graffiti. "Now what?"

Gadreel shook his head, removing his hand from Sam's chest. "I am afraid that my earlier statement stands true. Your brother is with Death."

Dean swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "No, no, no, there's gotta be _something--_ "

"There is nothing," The tall man replied simply. "There is little that I can do but ease his pain."

Dean stood numbly, silently, staring down at the creased face of his younger brother. _This ain't right,_ he thought angrily. _It shoulda been me._

"Dean--" The angel focused his intense gaze on the older Winchester. "Though I cannot cure your brother, there may yet be something else I can do -- something he wishes to do before he passes."

"Wh-what?" 

Gadreel pressed his fingers to Sam's forehead. "He is stalling. He wishes to...to speak with you. To say goodbye. If he allows me to possess him, I can keep him alive and awake. Then he may get his closure."

Dean thought fast, hard. "You can--you can wake him up?"

"Indeed," the angel replied. "If that is what your brother desires."

A loud pounding sounded against the door of the hospital room. Dean locked his eyes to Gadreel's. 

"Do it."

* * *

No one else would stop to pick him up that day. Cas had overheated earlier and removed his trenchcoat and overcoat. Now he gazed at the dirty bundle in his arms. It was ruined.

He had walked along the streets of Columbus for several hours, searching for...he wasn't sure what. The sun was rapidly setting. Finally he'd found an empty laundromat and ducked inside.

It was cool inside; Cas reached into his pants pocket and drew out his remaining quarters. It wasn't enough for a load. 

He fed his twenty dollar bill into the change machine. It disappeared; the machine buzzed. Two quarters fell out. More buzzing. Cas frowned and pressed the return button. Nothing. He pressed it repeatedly. Slammed his palm into the machine. Again. 

The bill was gone.

With a weary sigh, he pulled out the two quarters and returned to the washer. He placed in his coat, his shirt, his dress pants, his tie, his trenchcoat. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Cas spotted a vending machine.

He glanced back to his machine load, bloody and stained and torn.

Then back at the vending machine.

His throat scratched painfully.

Cas walked out of the laundromat, chugging a bottle of water, a lost-and-found outfit draped haphazardly around his weary body.

He needed to find a place to sleep.

* * *

"Sam Winchester?"

"Who--who are you?" Sam asked, bewildered as a young man roughly the same height as him appeared within the cabin. He had solemn eyes and short hair and wide hands. Sam glanced between the newcomer and Death. "Is he one of yours?"

"I should say not," Death responded dryly, examining his cuticles. "That would be one of God's."

"Yes," admitted the man. "I am an angel of the Lord. My name is Gadreel. Sam Winchester, I have come on behalf of your brother, Dean."

Sam swallowed. "Dean? He-he sent you?"

"He called for help and I came. Sam, I cannot heal you; nobody can," Gadreel explained. "But I heard your request."

"My--request? To see my brother?" Gadreel nodded.

"If you wish to speak with him, to seek closure," he explained, "I can make it so."

"Yes--I mean--" Sam's head was swimming. He wanted more than anything to wake up, to see Dean and to tell him it would be all right.

But-- "How is that possible?" he asked, trying to conceal the hope in his own voice.

The angel smiled. "If you give me permission to possess you, Sam, I can keep your body functioning until you are prepared to depart for the Heaven that awaits you."

"I..." Possess? No way, he would never...how could he be okay with...but it was an _angel_ , it would only be temporary...

_I need to see Dean._

"Yes. Yes, I'll...I'll do it." He glanced at Death, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow. "What happens now?"

"Now, I shall have to await your departure," the older man replied smoothly, stepping away from the door to the next world. "You know where to find me."

"Thanks," Sam replied, somewhat lamely, and turned back to Gadreel. The angel smiled and spoke, but Sam couldn't hear anything over the sound of loud ringing.

* * *

"I have your brother. He is safe."

"Let me talk to him."

"Soon. We must get safely away from this place first. You will need my power."

Dean sighed impatiently, but the pulsing against the wall was getting steadily louder, and so he agreed with a nod of his head.

Once they get to the bunker, Dean could see Sam again. Right now, that's all that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean struggle to communicate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this chapter! Hope you enjoy -- Castiel's solo chapter is coming up next! 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment!

_"Dean...look at him! Look at how close we are! Other people will die if we don't finish this!"_

_Dean's fists balled in agony, wanting to shake his brother out of this suicide mission. "Think about it. Think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a Hellhound! We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here. But I can't do it without you."_

_"We wouldn't_ need _any of that if I cure him right here, and right now! Dean, are you even listening to yourself?" Sam was breathing heavily, tears streaking his bruised face. "Saving people, Dean. That's what we do. Did you forget that? How many more innocent people need to get hurt just because--"_

_"Sammy, stop!" Dean lunged toward his brother, gripping a tight fist into his shirt. "I'm trying to save people. I'm trying to save you!"_

_Sam tore himself away, holding his bleeding hand aloft, his head shaking frantically. "I owe this world, Dean. Okay? All those people, killed by demons, by Lucifer? By us? I owe them. I owe you!"_

_"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, his thoughts racing. He needed to defuse Sam before he did something stupid._

_"I know that I've done nothing but let you down," Sam choked, stepping towards Crowley. "You think I need a chaperone, and I know you don't trust me. But Dean...I can do this. I can do some real good for the world. And I can't let you down again-- I can't--"_

_"Sammy--no!"_

_There was a bright flash of light._

* * *

_Please, I desire only to look around....good angel, why should I wish harm to come to the humans, most precious of all of us....how can it be that the other animals may enjoy the splendor while I must watch from afar....is it truly God's wish to exclude one of his very own creations?_

_Good angel, allow me to pass...._

Sam sat bolt upright in bed, gasping from an abstract fear. His heart pounded, his mind a haze from the haunting panic of his already forgotten dream. He breathed in deeply.

He was alive. Barely, he reminded himself. But alive. He could feel Gadreel's grace inside him, warming his core, stretching through his veins. Keeping his blood pumping. It was unnerving.

 

The first thing Dean had said to him when he had regained consciousness yesterday was _How could you._ Then he'd wrapped his arms around him in a fierce, protective embrace and didn't let him go for a full minute. That was when Sam realized that talking Dean into this, into moving on -- it was going to take some time.

Sam pushed himself off of his bed and made his way into the kitchen. Six a.m, the clock read. He opened a cupboard, took out an apple. The deep red skin shone in the light. He took a bite.

 _Do I even need to eat anymore?_ he wondered as he chewed.

 _I do not believe it would do you any harm,_ replied a strange voice inside his head. Gadreel's. Sam shuddered involuntarily. Sharing his body with an ethereal being was not very easy to come to terms with. 

It was only temporary. Just until Dean can understand.

* * *

_"Did....did it....work?"_

_Sam looked between his brother and Crowley, and again back to Dean. "I...I don't know," he admitted. "The light, the...the Trial juice...it's gone."_

_How the hell was Sam alive right now?_

_The king of Hell groaned, turning his eyes slowly up to meet Dean's. They were wide, almost scared. Dean scowled and turned to his brother._

_"What the hell were you thinking, man?" he demanded, heat rising into his neck. "You were ready to jump off a fuckin' bridge just now!"_

_Sam swallowed, met his brother's angry gaze. "I did what was right, Dean," he replied, his voice somehow even through all the emotion he still carried. "I would do it again if I had to!"_

_"But you don't!" Dean's adrenaline was still pumping hard. Naomi lied. Sammy was still alive. He was alive. Alive. Alive._

_Crowley cleared his throat suddenly. "I don't mean to be...a bother," he slurred, hesitant and hazy, "but...am I free to go?" Dean rounded on him, shooting him a murderous glare. The man shrank back in his chair. "No, then...?" he croaked out._

_"Not a damn chance in Hell," he spat back. He turned to his brother. "We need to get him back to the bunker 'til we know what to do with him." Sam nodded, relief shining in his eyes as he made to unchain Crowley. "But this conversation ain't over," he warned. They packed up._

* * *

Dean joined Sam in the kitchen half an hour later; the air was thick between them. But his older brother said nothing, merely busied himself with the coffee maker. Sam coughed quietly. No response.

"So...we're just gonna act like everything's normal?" he prompted. He saw Dean stiffen, but still he received no reply. He sighed. "Dean--"

"Nothing you can say will make me think that what you did to yourself is okay, Sammy," Dean snapped, turning around, a bag of coffee clutched in his hand. "You hear me? Nothing."

"So--you're just gonna be a dick to me until I, what, decide to leave? You don't even want to try and talk this out?"

Dean slammed the bag on the counter, grounds spilling out everywhere. "Dammit, Sam, quit talking about--about leaving! You don't have to go anywhere! Gadreel gave you a chance to live. So why not just, stay here?"

"Are you kidding me?" Sam strode over to him. "You want me to go around the rest of my life with an angel wearing me to the prom? In what universe is that okay?"

"At least you'd be alive, Sam," Dean finished with a growl. "No, you know what? It's too fucking early for this." 

Knowing the futility of arguing his point further until Dean had finished his coffee, Sam withdrew and headed into the other room. Dean followed a few minutes later with a hot mug in one hand, and his cell phone in the other. He flipped the phone restlessly between his fingers. 

"Hey, Dean, uh," Sam frowned up at him. "Have you seen Kevin?"

"He's probably still sleepin'," Dean muttered, boring holes into his cell phone like he was waiting for it to ring. Sam shook his head. 

"His room's empty, the door was open when I woke up," he replied. "And, uh, didn't you say Crowley was still down in the dungeon?"

Dean's eyes shot up, wide. The two brothers scrambled to the basement.

 

Crowley was sitting in the corner of the dark concrete room, hands still cuffed together, looking completely rumpled. His hair was unkepmt, and as he looked up at the brothers, they could see that his eyes were red and swollen. 

Dean charged forward. "What the hell did you do to Kevin?" he demanded, gathering up a fistful of the man's shirt.

Crowley raised his hands up defensively, the action marred by the chains on his wrists. "I've done nothing--I haven't seen him since yesterday," he admitted. Dean growled and shook him. 

"Fucking liar! Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"Like I said, nothing! I only told him--" The man stopped, as if he realized something. 

Sam's eyes narrowed and he stepped forward. "Told him what?" he prompted.

Crowley's gaze flickered over to the taller brother, squinting as if he only just processed his appearance. "Aren't you supposed to be dying?" he asked. 

"That's none of your business, asshat," Dean snarled. Crowley swallowed and then sighed.

"I was only trying to, well, clear the air, if you will," he began, his gaze drifting toward the devil's trap on the floor. "To make amends for all the...terrible things that I'd done to the boy." Dean released Crowley's collar and stepped back, eyeing him suspiciously. The former demon continued. "His mother's alive, in the Ruessels warehouse in Wichita. I had...kept her there for insurance purposes." Did the man actually look _sorry_ , or was Sam seeing things? "He must have gone to break her out."

"Dammit!" Dean kicked the wall and turned to Sam. "He'll get himself killed! Come on, we gotta go."

"Dean, I'm not even supposed to be--"

"Please, Sammy." Dean's eyes looked tired, sad. "I need your help."

Sam sighed internally. "Like you said at the church, Dean," he replied, making his way toward the door, "our conversation isn't over."

"Erm, I know the situation is fairly urgent, but could I trouble you lovely boys for a bit of food?"

"No," the two replied in unison. The shelves closed between them.

* * *

It was a friggin' nightmare getting Kevin and Mrs. Tran out of that warehouse in one piece. The demons were gone from the vicinity -- back in Hell where those bastards belonged -- but several traps had been laid that Dean nearly got himself killed on. If it hadn't been for Sam's quick thinking, then Hell might have gotten the last laugh on him after all.

 _Just further proof that Sammy needs to stay right here on Earth,_ Dean thought to himself, sitting in an armchair and absently fiddling with his cell phone. _He's gotta know that now._

"Are you sure you don't want to stay at the bunker, Mrs. Tran?" Sam was saying in the other room. "The angels might come looking for Kevin, to try and get back into Heaven. It's just a little too early to tell what's going to happen."

"Thanks, Sam," came Linda's weary but firm reply. "But I think it's time Kevin and I found ourselves a real home again. Away from Kansas. Away from warehouses, and away from you two."

Dean winced at the words. Her tone was light and kind, and brutally honest. As if he needed reminding that everything that happened to Kevin and Mrs. Tran was on them.

His phone beeped, startling him. He punched the unlock code rapidly, opening his messages.

It was Garth, asking for an update. Dean exhaled slowly and leaned backin his chair, trying to relax his racing heart. He'd thought-- _hoped_ \--but still no word from--

"Dean." Kevin stood in front of him, his backpack slung over his shoulder and the angel tablet clutched in his hand. "We're going."

Slowly getting to his feet, Dean nodded. "Keep us updated, okay? Wherever you end up. Just so we know, uh, you know. For emergencies."

"I will," Kevin half-smiled, "Just...don't tell my mom I told you. I guess she thinks you two are bad luck or something." 

Dean chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, your mom ain't wrong." 

Kevin glanced at his feet, shifted his weight, and then met Dean's gaze. "Hey, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but...dude, you should really listen to Sam's point of view. You two can be so--"

Dean cut him off with a harsh wave of his hand. "Okay, preacher man, stop right there. That's between him and me. It don't concern you. Now," he cleared his throat, "As soon as you got more information on reversing Metatron's one-man-show, you call us. Got it, Shortstop?"

"You know I'm actually average height right? You two are just freaky giants."

"Whatever," Dean replied, smirking. "You two better hit the road."

"Mom, let's go," Kevin called out. 

The four of them said quick goodbyes and the Trans left the bunker. Then it was just the two of them again.

And Crowley, of course, who at this point, they really needed to feed.

* * *

_"All right, Kevin, you sure you can handle His Royal Lowness while we track down some answers?"_

_"I got it, Dean. You guys find Cas. I'm just...glad you two are back in one piece."_

_"It was a close one, but we--augh!"_

_"Sammy? Sam! Hey!"_

_"Dean--it hurts--"_

_"Okay, okay we'll take care of this--come on, I got you little brother!"_

_"Naomi--maybe she was telling the truth--"_

_"Let's get to the car--Sammy? Sam? Cas!? Hang on, Sammy. Castiel!_

_"Where the hell are you?"_


End file.
